The Light Child rewrite
by Reine Qual
Summary: A reworked version of my old story. Will probably wind up being very different from the original. Harry gets new powers and Voldemort brings a new player onto the field. Possible maybe SLASH, language and violence in later chapters. Will be Mature.
1. The Plan

**A/N:** Dear God, I can't believe I'm writing a story like this. I mean how many times has this plot been used? It's pathetic really. But I need something to help me get out of writer's block.

So, please don't laugh at me or try and kill me for writing this instead of working on my other fics. Writers block is the worst feeling in the world! **whimpers **Pity me!

Well, moving on. I'm tying as fast as I can, whenever I can, but I recently got my schoolwork (I'm home schooled) and I really need to keep working on that, so the next updates should be rather late for _GL and SD_, Demon Lords, and, **The Guardians**. I'm so sorry! But any other author can sympathize, and agree, with me on the fact that trying to come up with half-decent chapters while trying to do Algebra is damn near impossible.

Math _is_ the root of all-evil.

Money is good. Learning something that I most likely will never use in my life is bad.

Anywho, you didn't came here to hear me bitch and moan, - or read me . . . whatever.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything officially related to it. I'm not even sure if I own this plot. But the new characters you don't recognize are mine so don't steal them or if you want to use them, at least ask for my permission first.

**Warnings**: This fan fiction will (most likely) have **SLASH** in it, so if you don't like, don't read. I don't want people flaming me for the content of my stories, so I repeat, there **WILL** be **SLASH **(probably), as in two guys making out, and if this makes you sick run away as far and as fast as you can. Language and violence in later chapters.

**Pairings/Couples**: None so far

Spoilers for at least the first four books.

Enjoy this used-to-death plot and please, please review.

**NEW Author's Notes: **I've decided to go back and fix and re-write some parts of the story, in the hopes of making it better ("It can't get any worse" my subconscious mutters in the back of my mind. I poke it sharply with a pencil.) Then I will try and write new chapters to post.

**P.S.** Lots of things have happened in recent years, most notably; I moved out of my parent's house a year ago, I got a new boyfriend a year and a half ago, and my boyfriend was diagnosed with cancer last August, so I have a rather busy life. Posts might be slow. But anyone that actually read my stories before will be used to that...sorry. Thanks for reading! Hugs to all.

**P.P.S. **The original LC story will only be posted until I catch up and rewrite all the existing chapters. Then I'll remove it and this will be the only Light Child version.

**Prologue:** _The Plan_

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"_Wormtail_." The hissing, whispering breath cut the warm, stagnant air like a cold, sharp knife, and caused a shudder to pass through the small group of dark, hooded, masked figures clustered at the end of the room. At the icy whispered command, as one, the cloaked mass parted to let the smallest member of their Order move to the front of the pack.

One of the men wearing long black robes stumbled forward. He was short in stature and even through his clothes, one could tell he was considerably plump around the middle. His robes were too long, and patched in places, the hems nothing but tatters. Unlike some of his other companions, whose clothes were the deepest of blacks, his were now a pale, natty gray. His breathe rasped through the air holes in his white and black mask. His dark, bulging, terrified eyes flashed rapidly from side to side, quick darting glances to no one in particular, just a habit formed after 12 years of hiding and constantly checking for an escape. None.

He trembled and kneeled, breath catching in his chest. On both knees he hunched over his thighs, sweat dripping forehead on the floor, and shaking hands pressed flat to either side of his head. One hand was stark white under the layer of dirt and dust and maybe blood. Thick, ugly blue veins trailed under the thin, nearly transparent flesh like twisted worms. The nails were chipped and broken and bleeding from too much fretting. Black dirt mixed with the blood to form crusty streaks and swirls over his stubby fingers. The other hand glinted pure silver, solid and strong, and perfect. Magic. "Master?" The pathetic man asks breathlessly, shoulders trembling. "You have need of me?"

A pale, too long finger taps the arm of a chair. _tap-tap-tap ._"Hmm," the purring sound comes from the same throat that emanated the chill hiss moments before. "Look at me, Wormtail, when I am speaking to you," The voice continues. The cowering man, Wormtail, flinches but slowly raises his head and shoulders and finally his eyes. "Much better, Wormtail." The voice sounds coldly amused.

A man – if he could be called that still – sat on a slightly raised dais in an ornately carved throne made of onyx, with intricately twining arms and legs, all in the shape of serpents. Their slitted eyes, glittering rubies, flashed with faux life in the candle light. "Have you found out where the he lives?" The human-like creature asked casually, deceptively calm, toying with the folds in his rich robes, splaying his pale spider-like hands over the carved hooded heads of his chair.

"Y-yes, my Lord." The small man stammered, lowering his forehead back to the stone floor as his voice falters.

The flat, snake-like face twitched, the pale lip-less mouth twisting into a parody of a smile. "Good." The cold voice sounded satisfied. "I want you and a group of Death-Eaters to bring him to me."

"B-but, my Lord, he is . . . well pr-protected . . . we would . . . n-never be able . . . to touch . . . him." The robed and hooded lump on the floor panted out, he was starting to shiver.

"_Wormtail, _do you think I'm stupid?" The man on the black throne asked quietly, his red slitted eyes blazing, seeming to glow in the semi-darkness of the chamber, matching the snakes' of his chair. Wormtail shuddered and moaned. "Do you think I would send anyone there, had I not found a way to disperse the protection barriers at his house?"

"N-no, my Lord."

"You will go to his house. You will bring him to me." The Master commanded in a voice that could have frozen winter's heart. "And you will not fail. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Master." Wormtail was now trembling violently. The Death-Eaters behind him bowed simultaneously and chorused, "Yes, my Lord!"

"Now, Wormtail, I will teach you to never underestimate me or my plans again." He smiled and raised his wand.

"N-no m . . . my- lord . . . pl . . . please!"

"_Crucio!_"

The man arched his back and screamed, his cries echoed around the room, bouncing off the old stonewalls, as he writhed and twisted on the hard ground. Some of the Death-Eaters shifted, remembering their own time spent under that particular curse. The Lord finally lifted his wand and Wormtail huddled on the floor, panting and sobbing quietly.

"Go now, my Faithful Followers, bring me want I want. Bring me _Harry Potter._"

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that sucked. I hate this, but I'm so completely stuck on my other stories that this is all that I can come up with.

However, I'm still trying, so please be patient.

Read and Review.

You know what? It's probably better if you didn't, I really don't think I could take all the flames and swear words and death threats I most likely will be receiving soon.

**Pray for me** - _Reine_


	2. The Attack

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything officially related to it.

**A/N:** Well, I still haven't thought of any new ideas yet so I'm going to continue writing this, so here's the next chapter.

**New A/N: **Here's the first chapter, rewritten. It's good deal different from the original, so I hope those that like the old version will still find this one somewhat entertaining, I'm very sorry if you don't, but I couldn't help but redo the story...it was rather embarrassing. There's a new character in this one, folks.

Same warnings as before: possible **SLASH/YAOI**, spoilers for the first four books (maybe the others, depending on where this new story goes), possible violence.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One:** _The Attack_

* * *

Harry Potter's green eyes snapped open, pained and panicked. Images of the darkened chamber with Voldemort, Wormtail, and the other Death-Eaters swirled in his head. He lay, breathing heavily, for a moment in bed, disoriented and nauseated, before bits and pieces of his vision clarified. Harry sat up hurriedly and put his hand to his forehead, wincing as his scar continued to burn and the echoes of the Cruciatus Curse slowly faded from his limbs. He flicked the light on and located his glasses, then shoved them on clumsily as he scrambled out of bed.

He hurried over to his desk and rummaged around, shoving books and dirty clothes to the floor, until he found a sheet of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Harry quickly wrote a letter to Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of his school.

_Professor,_

_I had a dream about Voldemort. He told Wormtail to come get me with some other Death-Eaters. I don't know if it was real or if just a normal nightmare, but my scar is hurting again. _

_H. P._

Harry rolled up the parchment, hands sweaty and shaking, and looked over at his owl's cage. She wasn't in it. He swore and went over to the open window and whistled sharply. While each second seemed like an eternity, his beautiful snowy owl, Hedwig, came soaring through the window within moments of his call. Sighing in relief, he stroked her chest with his fingers in praise.

"Good girl, Hedwig. Now, please, take this to Dumbledore as fast as you can." He told her urgently. "It's important."

Sensing her owner's panic, she hooted once and took off out the window in a rush of white feathers. But as soon as Harry closed the window behind her, he knew it was useless. Something told him the dream had been real and the Death-Eaters would get here long before Dumbledore would.

Spinning away from the window, he dropped to his knees beside his bed and dug through the opening under the loose floorboard. At the beginning of summer break, the Durselys had locked his trunk in the cupboard that had once served as his bedroom. Harry had expected this and had hidden his wand, Invisibility cloak, and a few other items he wanted to keep at hand, in his clothes while he was on the Hogwarts Express, then hid them again, this time in his tiny room.

Just as his fingers brushed against the smooth, familiar handle of his wand he felt a strange shift in the air. Hair raised all over his body and he shuddered, feeling somehow vulnerable, all of a sudden. He quickly grabbed his wand and stood up, trying to figure out what had just changed. He briefly considered retrieving his Invisibility cloak, as well, but decided against it. He was sure it wouldn't help unless he could get out of the house and far away from Privet Drive before Wormtail arrived. And if the Death-Eaters captured him, he didn't want them to get a hold of his father's cloak.

He also had a brief debate, silently, whether to wake the Dursleys or not, and finally decided to just magically lock his aunt and uncle's door. Dudley's too, he added after some more thought. Plan in mind, he moved swiftly to the door and yanked it open. Luckily, this year his uncle had ruled it unnecessary to lock his bedroom door at night.

He rushed to his cousin's bedroom and whispered, "_Colloportus._" and pointed his wand at Dudley's closed door. The wooden door seemed to swell to fill in all the cracks of the doorway, until the entire thing was sealed tight. He quietly tried the door knob. It was stuck fast.

He moved on to his aunt and uncle's door. He repeated the spell and checked to make sure it had worked before heading back to his own room. He didn't bother with the front or back doors as he knew the Death-Eaters could easily undo anything he did. The spells on his family's doors were just to make himself feel better. If he went down, the Dursleys weren't going to be saved by a simple locking spell.

As he shut his bedroom door behind him and scanned his room, looking for anything that might be useful, he heard an explosion downstairs. Too late.

He moved away from the door, heart hammering painfully in his chest, and raised his wand as he heard footfalls running up the stairs. At least Hedwig was already on her way. Palm sweaty, Harry gripped his wand tighter and went through spells in his head. He breathed deeply. The footsteps got louder, floorboards creaking under many feet, than fell silent. Without warning, his door was blown off it's hinges by a massive force, landing with a deafening slam on the floor. A familiar, hated, voice called out, _"Stupefy!"_

Harry ducked away from the sparks and shot his own stunning spell as he straightened up. He heard a thud, like some one falling to the ground, and some one else cursing. Another voice screamed, "Get him!" and spells started coming rapidly; red, green, and dark purple swirls of light mingled in the air as they flew towards him. He was suddenly grateful for his thin build as spells whizzed passed him as he desperately avoided being hit, while trying to cast his own. The reflexes that made him a great Seeker came into play as he stepped aside two more hexes.

Worriedly, there was no sound from any of the Durselys, no loud bellows from Uncle Vernon, no high pitched shrieking from Aunt Petunia, no blubbering from Dudley...had the Death-Eaters done something to them? Harry's stomach knotted. He didn't like them but still...

By the light of his small lamp, Harry could see that the hallway outside the busted doorway was filled with masked Death-Eaters, all intent on capturing and handing him over to the person he hated most in the entire world, Lord Voldemort. Well, he wasn't about to lie down for them. He hadn't escaped Voldemort in June just to be caught again a few weeks later. He shoved growing panic aside.

Harry dodged a shower of orange sparks and shouted, _"Expellilarmus!" _hitting the foremost Death-Eater and disarming him, then he stunned the same wizard, and shot the Impediment curse at the person behind him, slowing him down to where his movements became almost invisible.

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Harry ducked and yelled "Stupefy!" and "Impedimenta!" effectively taking out the two next Death-Eaters. He really wished school had taught him more about dueling and more spells that didn't have to do with changing one thing into another. He was running out of options, moving jerkily and feeling awkward, growing more worried about losing with every passing second.

Because of the limited space of the doorway, the Death-Eaters couldn't all come at him at once. Harry was very grateful for this, as he could move more freely and still have a fairly clear shot at the doorway of enemies. The Death-Eaters weren't so lucky. They crowded together and jostled for a position to take aim at Harry, each wanting to be the one to take Harry Potter back to their master. Unfortunately, it appeared that least one of the Death-Eaters wasn't as stupid as his comrades.

_"Reducto."_ One of them said, almost lazily, and the wall to the right of the door exploded, sending dust and debris everywhere, momentarily obscuring Harry's vision, and sending him tumbling to the floor as he tried to escape flying plaster. His glasses slid off his nose and skidded across the floor and out of sight.

Before he could recover, he was hit with the disarming spell and his wand flew forcibly out of his hand. The leading Death-Eater caught it neatly in his black gloved hand. The dogs of Voldemort started laughing, just like at the graveyard, when Voldemort was torturing him while he was tied to the headstone of Tom Riddle; the graveyard where Wormtail had killed Cedric Diggory, the graveyard where Voldemort had been reborn. His heart pounded as blood rushed in his ears.

"Harry Potter." The Death-Eater that disarmed him chuckled and spun the holly wand with his fingers. "What a brave sight you are." Dark eyes glittered behind the mask he wore. The others laughed with him. Harry didn't recognize the smooth voice; it sounded much younger than the other Death-Eaters. He stopped the motion of Harry's wand and handed it to one of his partners without looking. He then crouched with ease next to Harry.

Harry glared back as best as he could. He knew he wasn't intimidating, sprawled awkwardly on the floor, covered in powdered drywall, and missing his glasses, but he wasn't going to cower either.

"I've waited a long time to meet you, you know?" The unknown Death-Eater told him casually. Harry stared at him. "It's true!" The stranger clasped his hands together and rested his chin on them, seemingly completely relaxed. Harry's eyes scanned the others without really seeing them. He swore mentally. He was damn near blind without his glasses.

He turned back to the man in front of him. "Who are you?" He demanded sharply and slowly sat up. The Death-Eater didn't move but some of the others shifted and raised wands. The stranger waved his hand airily and laughed openly, a deep sound that seemed genuinely happy. Not mocking or arrogant, just pleased. "Enough, you mongrels." He told them and they subsided. Some even turned and helped their bewitched fellows, while others left the room completely.

Harry was nonplussed. What was going on? He looked at the eyes behind the Death-Eater's mask and wondered. The eyes, he could see up close, were dark blue and sparkling. "Who are you?" He asked again, embarrassed to find his voice came out rather breathlessly.

The Death-Eater shrugged and spread his hands. "Is that really important?" He asked in turn. "I mean, it doesn't change the predicament you're in, does it?"

Harry suddenly felt angry as well as scared and confused. "I would like to know who beat me, if it's all the same to you." He retorted and dusted himself off, a useless endeavor. His emotions roiled together, making him feel even more suffocated and trapped than being surrounded by Death-Eaters did. Shame and hatred mixed with fear and doubt. He was so tired of being helpless and it seemed he couldn't do anything about it this time; no wand, no Portkey, no smokey images of his long dead parents. He was on his own.

"Well," the stranger mused. "I suppose that's not so outlandish a request." He stood suddenly and Harry had to crane his neck to look up at him. Harry hated it. "You, my dear Harry, may call me Death. Although," He leaned down as abruptly as he had stood and whispered as though sharing an important secret. "that's not my real name." He straightened and laughed his carefree laugh again.

Harry didn't know what to do. He was so confused and angry and scared that he couldn't think properly. This new Death-Eater was something he had never expected. "Well..." Death said and rocked on his heels. "Guess we should be going, Harry." He lifted his wand. "Are you going to come quietly?" He flicked his wrist playfully. "Or do I need to tie you up?" He sounded amused.

Harry was, again, reminded of the graveyard, of being tied up and at the whim of Voldemort. Confusion and fear were disappearing as true anger settled in. Something in the tone of this new follower of the Dark Lord pissed him off and he no longer cared who he was, just that he didn't take him to his master.

He climbed to his feet slowly, never taking his eyes off his would-be captor and said, "Neither. I'm not going anywhere."

The Death-Eaters laughed derisively and spread out around him again. Oddly, Death just shook his head. "Come now, Harry. I, believe it or not, don't want to hurt you."

This time Harry laughed, but without humor. "But you want your precious master to have me? I'm sure he's going to treat me with care and affection." He sneered. Death sighed. "Harry, I personally have nothing against you, but Lord Voldemort does, and he's all that is important." The other Death-Eaters mumbled agreements and finally Malfoy stepped forward.

"Death?" He said, his tone was respectful yet somehow condescending. This Death person was obviously favored by Voldemort, and Malfoy wasn't happy about it. Death turned towards him. "Why not just tie him up and be done with it? This banter is pointless. The Dark Lord is waiting."

Death sighed again but nodded. "You're right, Lucy." He faced Harry, turning his back on Malfoy who, Harry knew, was fuming at the ridiculous nickname. "Come, Harry. Time to go." Death pointed his wand at him. "Don't make me get nasty."

Harry shook his head and stepped back. "I said no." As he took another step away from Death, the air wavered and the room seemed to tilt. Harry shivered and Death looked around. "What was that?" He had lost the friendly tone and spoke quietly.

Harry barely heard him. Something was happening, something inside himself was growing tight and hot. His skin felt sensitive and numb at the same time. He blinked slowly and focused on the strange vibration he was hearing. He felt dazed. Had one of the other Dear-Eaters managed to hit him with a spell? "Potter, what's wrong with you?" Death voice came as though he was far away or as if Harry was under water. "Potter? _Incarcerous!_" Ropes flew at Harry and he stood and watched them come towards him. About a foot away from his body they stopped in midair and writhed before falling harmlessly to the littered floor.

Harry stared at them, without really knowing what had just happened. It was all he could do to keep from falling to his knees, he was so dizzy. He turned his eyes back to Death and the other Death-Eaters. They were all staring at him, even the ones he had knocked down earlier, were awake and looking at him. He saw Wormtail's silver hand poking out of a sleeve. Flashes of the man severing his own hand spun behind his eyes, before switching to images of Cedric and the shades of Voldemort's victims.

The vibration went from heard to felt. His flesh grew warmer, uncomfortably hot, and tingled like electricity was running through his veins. He blinked and every thing swam in and out of focus. He felt sick and he ached all over. He was distantly aware of the Death-Eater's shocked cries as he felt the vibration grow stronger. His skin prickled and he glanced briefly at his hands.

Something, far back in his mind, was telling him he should be worried that his body was glowing, or, at the very least, curious. But his mind felt sluggish and removed from what was happening.

Death stood perfectly still as the others ran around him and out the door. He just watched Harry and Harry watched him. Abruptly a loud rumbling sound started and the ground started to shake, causing the floorboards to buckle and pop. The window glass shattered into little glittering shards, dusting the destroyed floor, mingling with the remnants of the wall and the door. Death slowly shook his head and said, "I guess if I'm allowed to play on Voldemort's side, you can have your own special players." He sighed dramatically. "Oh well, until next time, Harry." Without a backwards glance, Death turned on his heel and followed after the fleeing Death-Eaters.

Harry was mostly unaware of this, seeing and hearing, but not truly comprehending it. He was too caught up in the sudden surge of power that he felt flowing around him like water. It was warm and made the air hum. But, suddenly, there was too much. His body was starting to hurt; his muscles were burning, as though he was straining them.

The last thing he remembered was a blast of golden-white light and a crumbling sound, before darkness flooded his mind.

A/N: Well, that's the first rewrite chapter. Please tell me what you think.


	3. The Red Founder

Disclaimer: Don't own, so please don't sue.

**A/N**: Next chapter, should have been out sooner (as the majority of it was already written...years ago) but I'm lazy.

Everywhere he looked was endless silver mist, curling and drifting slowly around his body, cool and slightly damp on his feverish skin. Even though he didn't have any idea as to where he was, Harry did not feel scared or worried. In fact, he felt better than he ever had; the only other time he had ever felt this good was his first time on a broom. He felt free and wonderful, the space of mist almost comforting.

Not having another plan, or anything worrisome in his mind, he began to wander, hoping to find a clue as to where he was. He knew he should be feeling apprehensive and a sense of urgency, but the reason why kept slipping...

After several minutes of walking and getting nowhere, Harry sighed and stopped moving, defeated and more confused than ever. He carelessly sat on the ground, not needing to rest, but just for something different. He really didn't think too much of the simple action - until the sensation of falling through air finally registered in his mind.

Harry screamed as cool air whipped at his face, blowing his hair around, tearing at his clothes. His arms flailed about and he closed his eyes tightly when he began to feel sick. He fell further and further, glittering tendrils of silver mist flowing around him like strips of silk.

Just as he thought he couldn't take anymore and his stomach was crawling up his throat, Harry felt himself slowing down and forced open his eyes. With a soft thump, he hit the ground and lay there panting, gripping what seemed to be thick grass with his trembling fingers.

Slowly regaining his breath, Harry forced himself to sit up and wiped sweat off of his brow. Looking around, he saw he was in the middle of a large expanse of brilliantly green grass and patches of small white and purple flowers. A blue haze in the distance marked a vast mountain range.

Still breathing heavily, Harry glanced up. Swirls of silvery-gray mist roiled overhead as if caught in a powerful wind, like a storm brewing. He lowered gaze to the ground and reached over to touch one of the little pale flowers. The petals were smooth and soft, almost like skin, but the leaves were rough, like a cat's tongue.

He suddenly wished Hermione or Neville were here, one of them could probably tell him what kind of plant it was.

Behind him, Harry heard a rustle, like the swish of a cloak. Swiftly standing up, he spun around and saw a tall dark shape materializing out of thin air. It was a tall person, a man judging by the size of the shoulders, dressed in blood red robes.

Harry now felt extremely wary. What if this was a follower of Voldemort's? Last time he had just stood by and watched some one approach, it had ended with a seven-teen year old boy dead and the most feared dark wizard's return to power.

But as soon as he thought this, he realized that Voldemort probably wouldn't try and capture him in a field of petite flowers.

"Do not be alarmed, young Harry." The figure said in a deep, soothing tone. His face was the last thing to come into focus.

"Who are you?" Harry shot back, still watchful.

Even though he couldn't see the man's face, Harry could hear the smile in the stranger's voice when he replied to his question.

"I am," He said as his face wavered and sharpened. Harry could see finally see him. "Your father. No, wait! I mean I'm Godric Gryffindor. Godric Gryffindor. Damn! Why do I always say _father_?"

Harry: . . .

Not very different from the original chapter, but I feel a bit better about this one.

Please review.


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